Finding Quiet
by messed-up-reader
Summary: Reid has a problem. Hotch figures it out. But is it too late for the young agent. Yeah So I mainly wrote this to figure out my own angst, but have fun. Trigger Warning: Self Harm.
1. Chapter 1

Reid sat fingering the blade, his sleeve rolled up. He was sitting in a bathroom stall at the BAU, his entire body tense with expectation.

He looked down at his forearm. It was a patchwork of old, faded scars and newer, fresher cuts, all layered over one another.

 _Not too deep_ , he told himself, _I just need a couple shallow ones, enough to distract myself, to focus until the day ends._

His day really hadn't been that bad. It was just paper work from their last case. And even that wasn't too awful. It was a kidnapping, no one had even died.

But even so, he was feeling … well he didn't know what he was feeling. He never quite knew what he was feeling. And that was the problem.

When he got angry or sad or stressed, anything but happy - a feeling that he hadn't experienced in a very long time- he didn't know how to react. His brain didn't know what to do. So it detached itself. Reid stopped feeling - he went numb. But numb didn't work.

With a sigh, he brought the razor blade down on his wrist and sliced. His mind cleared the fog lifted. He could see the world again. It was like putting on glasses - everything came back to life. He made a couple more for good measure. Then he bandaged them up and rolled down his sleeve - so no one would see. No one could see - not in his line of work.

Hotch watched from his desk as the young agent exited the bullpen. His mind seemed empty - his face was blank and his entire body seemed to sag with the weight of the world. Hotch knew he shouldn't be analyzing Reid - that was the rule - don't profile the team.

But something was off with him. He was quieter, he slept more, and he refused to get drinks with everyone else. In fact, Hotch couldn't remember the last time he had heard Reid ramble on about some statistic that only kinda related to the case.

A couple of minutes later, Reid walked back into the room, but this time he was lighter, he even had a slight smile on his face.

 _That's weird. He looks alive again. How is that possible?_

Hotch knew it was a while ago, but he wondered if Reid was suffering a relapse or some delayed PTSD in connection with being tortured. And if that was the case, he had to pull him out of the field. It would just endanger the rest of the team if Reid wasn't focused.

Hotch walked out of his office, "Reid! Can you come here for a moment please?"

Reid glanced up at Hotch in surprise, but quickly scurried up to his office.

"Close the door and have a seat."

Reid did as he was asked and sat down, "Did I do something wrong? I know JJ needs the paperwork, but it is almost done I swear."

Hotch shook his head. "No Reid your performance has been fine. But if you don't mind me asking how are you doing?"

Reid stared at the man sitting across from him - a man he saw as a father. He tensed up for a second and then put on his best smile, "I'm good Hotch. Never been better."

 _Damn I shouldn't have added the last part - such an obvious lie._

Reid could see the doubt in Hotch's eyes. But he didn't push it. "Okay. You just seemed a little out of it lately. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine Hotch." Reid said quickly with an almost violent edge to his voice as he was pushing himself out of the chair.

"Reid." Hotch said surprised at his tone. He grabbed his arm. Reid was not fine. Hotch had never heard him talk to a superior like that.

Reid winced and said, "Hotch let go of my fucking arm. You can't just go around grabbing agents like that."

Out of shock more than anything Hotch let go.

 _Fuck._ Was Reid's first thought. _Fuck he had to have noticed. Why did I have to lose it like that. I can't say stuff like that. Especially to Hotch. I fuck everything up. I should just go home. Yeah. I can go home._

He quickly walked to his desk and grabbed his satchel.

"Reid what's up man. Why you leaving now? I mean I know we can technically go home at 6, but you never leave on time man." Morgan asked, concern dripping from his voice. A venom Reid detested. He wasn't weak.

"I don't feel especially well." _Not a lie._

"Okay kid. Call me if you need anything." _Not a chance. Not even if you did care._

Reid sat on the floor of his bathroom, shirt off, holding a knife, sharp and shiny.

The moment when Hotch grabbed his arm kept replaying in his head.

 _It is so loud. My head never shuts up. It is never quiet. It is just so loud. It actually hurts. Not like a headache, but I can feel my head thinking. The thoughts pulsing against my skull. Why won't it stop? Why won't it just stop? I need to make it stop. There is only one way to make it stop._

Reid took the knife and pressed in on his chest. The pain. It was like drugs, but better. His brain stopped thinking. He forgot everything. And for a little there was only the pain.

After about three minutes of sitting there, getting high off the pain Reid grabbed the bandages. He kept his first aid kit well stocked. If you had a habit like his, you had too.

But when Reid looked at the wound, he was surprised. It was deep. Way deeper than it should have been. The blood was, well everywhere. He immediately grabbed a towel and applied pressure in an effort to stop the bleeding. It wasn't working.

 _Shit._

His head started to spin. The edges of his vision went black.

After Reid stormed out of the BAU, Hotch went about his job normally, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was very much not right with the young agent. He had never seen Reid that angry or well scared. Reid had looked terrified as he left.

Hotch called Reid's phone, wanting to apologize or see if he could get him to open up or at least explain why he wasn't acting like Reid, but it went to voicemail. It went straight to voicemail 7 times.

The pit in Hotch's stomach continued to grow. Finally he went over to Reid's apartment. To see if he could talk to him face-to-face, but when he got there his apartment was silent. No one was answering the door. He was about to leave when he heard a crash. It kind of sounded like a head hitting something.

"Reid! Open up! It's Hotch. Are you okay? Is everything okay?"

Another crash.

Panicked, Hotch yelled, "Damn it Reid. I'm coming in." And he kicked open the door. Usually something left up to Morgan, but it worked.

The apartment was dark, save for a light coming out from under the bathroom door.

Hotch turned the handle, and what he saw when he opened it made him want to vomit and cry at the same time. He had see his fair share of gruesome crime scenes with so much blood and carnage that it would scar most people for life, but this was the only scene that Hotch would remember in vivid detail.

Reid was slumped against his tub, blood pouring out of a cut above his heart and pooling beneath him. There was so much blood. And then there was the mix of fresh cuts and old scars that covered both his arms and his stomach.

He knelt down next to Reid and gently shook him, "Reid wake up. Please. Come on. Open your eyes." Hotch knew that if Reid didn't wake up and if he couldn't stop the bleeding he would have to call an ambulance.

He also knew that Reid would hate him for it. He had said so many times that he didn't want to end up like his mother. That he was afraid of being institutionalized. And until now Hotch had no idea how easily it could happen.

"Hotch." a croaky and distant voice said.

Reid opened his eyes.

"Hotch. What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here? Go home. Forget what you see" Fuck he would have yelled if he had the strength. But he didn't have the strength. He just felt like lying down and going to sleep. And then never waking up.

"OH thank god Reid. I'm so mad at you right now, but we need to get the bleeding to stop okay."

Reid sloppily nodded.

Hotch grabbed the towel off the counter and pressed it to the wound. The expanding ring of blood on the white cloth gradually slowed and Hotch breathed a sigh of relief.

Reid with his consciousness regained, began to understand the situation.

"Oh fuck Hotch. I'm so sorry. You weren't supposed to see this. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. I didn't. Oh shit Hotch. I fucked up."

"No. Reid. Its my fault. I shouldn't have pushed you. I should have noticed something wasn't right. We can get you help. We can get you through this."


	2. Chapter 2

Even as Hotch said the words he knew they were lies and also the wrong thing to say.

"We?" asked Reid softly, panic edging in on his voice.

"I meant I. I'll help Reid. It will be okay. First things first. I need to get that cut bandaged up and cleaned. If you got infected, we'll it wouldn't be good. Do you have a first aid kit?" He asked afraid of the answer.

"It's by the sink. I think."

Hotch got up and found the kit right away. It was pretty standard except for the fact it had an alarming number of different bandage styles. And he found a couple of razor blades in the bottom of it. And a lighter. He tried not to think about any of it. One problem at a time. He needed to keep Reid away from hospitals.

He patched him up as effectively as possible. After he was sure the bleeding had stopped or at least was hampered he helped Reid to his bed. The poor kid was tired and Hotch had a feeling it had been awhile since he had a good night's sleep so he fell asleep almost instantly.

Hotch went back to the bathroom to clean up. There was so much blood. He had almost finished when he saw a shiny object peeking out from behind the toilet. A knife. A bloody knife. Hotch knew it was the instrument Reid used that night. It was bigger than Hotch had expected. And sharper. Sharper than it looked.

Reid hadn't known how much damage he was about to inflict when he used that knife.

Hotch grabbed a basket from the living room and went around - thoroughly searching the apartment - putting every sharp tool into it all the razor blades, knives, scissors, pencil sharpeners, letter openers, and lighters. The. He went out and put the basket in his trunk.

He came back up to the apartment. Reid was still in bed, asleep. The bathroom was cleaned up. The apartment was clean. Hotch started to feel panicky. The full weight of the situation finally having a chance to set in.

He knew he couldn't go to work tomorrow. And Reid sure as hell couldn't. Not until this got sorted out.

"Morgan?" Hotch asked.

"What is it Hotch? It is 1 in the morning. Do we have a case?"

Hotch sighed. He wanted to tell Morgan, he needed help, but it wasn't his place to say anything. If Reid wanted to tell Morgan he would do it himself. "No nothing like that. I just wanted to let you know I'm taking a couple of days off. I have some stuff I need to take care of."

"Okay," Morgan said, sounding suspicious, "if you need anything you can always ask me."

"I know Morgan. One more thing. Reid won't be in for a few days either."

"What do you mean? What happened Hotch? Is he … Is he using again?" Morgan replied worried.

"No. He isn't using. He just isn't feeling very well right now. He told me earlier and I thought you should probably know too."

"Okay. Sorry. I just. He told me that earlier. Thanks for letting me know Hotch."

"See you in a few days."

"Hotch. Take care of our boy." Then the line went silent.

Reid opened his eyes. His chest ached. The night before came flooding back to him. It didn't seem real. It seemed like a nightmare. Maybe it was. But when he turned his head he saw Hotch. Asleep in a chair. He felt sick.

He pushed himself up and got out of the bed and tried to sneak past the sleeping Hotch.

But Hotch is a father and Reid is tall and gangly and quite frankly not good at sneaking.

"Reid. Your up."

 _Fuck. All I wanted was to shower and put some clean clothes on and not discuss anything._

Reid sighed and turned to face Hotch who was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Yeah. I was just gonna shower and get ready for work."

"No you're not. Well I guess you can shower but other than that you aren't going anywhere today."

"Hotch. Come on. It was a bad night. We all have bad nights. It's fine. Just let me go to work."

"No. What you are doing. This isn't okay. You know that. If the bureau found out you would get fired. Not just that. You could die Reid. Do you understand that? You could die."

Reid threw his head back and laughed, "Come on Hotch. That wasn't a suicide attempt. I know what I was doing. If it will make you feel better we can have this conversation, but after I shower and change clothes. Just please."

Hotch stood up, "Yeah. Fine. I'll make breakfast. What do you want?"

"Uh. Well I'd like coffee and maybe eggs, but I don't think I have anything. Haven't exactly been shopping recently."

"I'll order something."

Reid started toward the bathroom, "Hotch. Where does everyone think we are today then?"

"I just told Morgan you weren't feeling well."

"Did he buy it?"

Hotch shook his head slowly, "I don't think so."

Reid nodded and walked into the bathroom.

Hotch went into the kitchen. It was a mess. Dirty dishes everywhere. He opened the fridge and there was a bottle of creamer and an expired carton of milk. He looked in the pantry and only found coffee. He put the coffee on and called a place down the street and ordered them some food.

He had just hung up the phone when he heard a crash.

"Reid!" he shouted as he ran to the bathroom. "Are you okay?"

He put his ear to the door. And he heard sobbing. And frantic mutterings "Where are they? Where are they? Where are they?"

Another crash.

Hotch pounded on the door. "Reid! Breathe. Focus on my voice. You don't need them. You don't need them."

"Yes I do!"

Another crash.

"Dammit Reid. I'm coming in." He tried the handle, hoping it wasn't locked. He had managed to fix Reid's front door, but he didn't really feel like fixing another door.

The door swung open to reveal a man with 3 PHDs sobbing with a cabinet's worth of toiletries strewn around his feet. He was rummaging through another cabinet.

Hotch grabbed Reid from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. Reid just kind of collapsed into Hotch. He folded in, like he was tired of standing. Like he was tired of taking up space. He put his face into Hotch's shoulder and cried.

Hotch, surprised, petted his head, trying his best to comfort the broken man.

"Where did you put them?"

"I'm not going to tell you, but I got rid of them. The apartment is clean."

"I need them."

"No you don't."

"You don't understand. They are the only thing standing between me and insanity. I need them. Just let me make one more cut. Then I'll quit. I just need to do it one more time."

"No. I can't do that Reid. But the coffee is almost done. Why don't you go put on some fresh clothes and have some coffee."

Reid lifted his head off Hotch's shoulder and wiped his eyes. He nodded. And then he walked back to the bedroom.

Hotch put all of Reid's toiletries back into the cabinet. And went out to the kitchen. He poured two cups of coffee and set them on the coffee table.

Reid came out wearing a long sleeve button up and sat on the couch, across from Hotch. He grabbed a cup and took a sip of the warm liquid.

"How long has this been going on?" asked Hotch.

"Do you really want to know?" asked Reid. "It is a long story."

"You need to tell someone Reid. Its either me or the Hospital."

So Reid began.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I know this is kind of short, but I thought I would post what I have so far. I hope you like it.**

The young agent looked down at his hands, no not his hands, his wrists as he began.

"You know I wasn't exactly normal as a kid. I didn't fit in. I mean that happens when you graduate high school when you are twelve. What I experienced wasn't weird or completely horrible, but I don't know between the bullying. God I hate that word. It makes me feel like a victim, which I'm not. I'm not weak. But between the bullying, an absent father, and my mom's condition, I felt out of control. I felt alone. I felt like my life wasn't mine. Like I couldn't control where it was going. I grew up too fast."

Reid stopped to choke back tears. Hotch knew this was the first time he was telling anyone about this. He knew the kid had never stopped feeling alone. Not really.

"Um. The night that those kids stripped me naked and tied me to the goal post. I got home and my mom hadn't even noticed I was gone. It was like something inside of me broke. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to do something, so I panicked. I ran into the bathroom and took apart a razor and um. I sliced my arm. And I felt better. I felt in control. I felt calm. The world didn't feel like it was ending anymore. My head felt clear. I didn't think it was wrong at first. I mean how can something that makes you feel so good, be bad?"

Hotch put his head in his hands. "Reid. Cutting is like a drug. It makes you…"

"I know Hotch! I know what drugs do. Okay. I know cutting is like a drug. It's either this or the dilaudid. I chose this. It seemed like the lesser of two evils."

"It isn't Reid. Neither of those things are the answer to how you are feeling."

"And how would you know? You don't know what it is like."

"Like what's like?"

"What it is like to know you are feeling something like anger or sadness or whatever. You know you are feeling emotions, but you can't quite identify it. You don't know how to react to it, but you have to or you're just going to go crazy. I do this to survive. I can't live in my mind. I can't Hotch. I don't know how to deal with the fear and anxiety and self hatred and depression. Do you?"

Hotch remained silent.

"That's what I thought." Reid whispered and stood up. He walked to the bedroom. He paused. "To answer your question. I do this to survive. I'm at war with my mind and this is the only strategy that works. I would have died a long time ago if I didn't do this."

And Reid closed the door behind him, leaving Hotch to process what had just happened.

Reid was a time bomb and he just went off.

Hotch got up and walked to the bedroom door, "Reid. Have you ever considered going to therapy?"

A slight pause. "Yes, but I'm not going to."

"Why not? I will listen and try to help you whenever you are feeling frustrated or out of control or just depressed, but I can't fix everything Reid. I mean neither could a therapist, but they are way more qualified than I am."

Reid opened the door, tears staining his cheeks. He sighed. His shoulders slumped. The kid looked like he had been beaten up. And Hotch realized he had. The world and his own mind combined to make a deadly team. Reid had been fighting for too long. For too long on his own. "Look Hotch. I know you just want to help, but I think I'm too far gone. I've been doing this stuff for so long, I don't even know what life would look like without them."

"You deserve to find out Reid. You don't have to keep fighting on your own. You have friends. You have friends who care about you. They want you to be happy."

A smile pulled at the edges of Spencer's face. "I'm afraid. To go to a therapist. I'm afraid they will call me crazy and I don't want…"

"You are afraid you're going to go the same way as your mom."

Reid nodded.

"You won't Reid. We can make sure of that. We will take care of it. We can help you get your life back."


End file.
